Four Times Michael Lost Someone
by ayjaydee
Summary: And one time he didn't. Michael's experiences with death and loss.


_Well, hey there. To anyone still reading these stories for Chaos fandom, bless your heart. I started this story years ago, but it sat on my computer unfinished because I just couldn't find the words. But for some reason, today I found them and finished it. This was originally inspired by Five Times Billy Let Go by Lena7142, which is a story that still makes me tear up when I read it. _

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Four Times Michael Lost Someone

1\. Aunt

Six-year old Michael Dorset sat on a small bench in a hospital corridor, just outside a room that his parents had entered a few minutes before. The nurse at the station smiled softly as the little figure moved his crayons across his coloring book, staying exactly inside the lines of the black-lined figure.

The door to the room opened softly and a brown-haired woman with teary green eyes stepped out. Sitting down next to her son, she quietly observed his precise coloring with a fond smile.

"Mikes, your Aunt Sarah is really excited to see you. Do you want to go say hi?"

The little boy's face lit up. "Auntie Sarah's here?" Then the smile dropped almost instantly into concern. "But why? Is she okay? Is it like when I fell out of the tree? Because that hurt."

His mother's soft grin was marred by the tears on her cheeks. "No, baby. It's not like that. Aunt Sarah isn't feeling very good. She's very sick right now."

"Is she gonna get better?" Tears started to well up in the corners of little Michael's eyes as his mother gently shook her head.

"No, baby, I'm afraid not." Then she took Michael's hand and gathered up his coloring supplies. "But I know seeing you will make her really happy right now. Do you want to go cheer her up?"

The little boy dashed the tears from his cheeks and a determined look crossed his face. "Yeah, Mama, let's go." And together they walked into his aunt's room.

A few days later, his mother came into his room while he was building a small but precisely placed fort out of large blocks and told him that his aunt had passed away that morning. This was Michael Dorset's first experience with death and loss, but it would not be his last.

2\. Carson

Every time Michael closes his eyes, he sees a burning building. He can smell the smoke on the hot African wind; feel the dry, cracked earth beneath his feet. He can hear the imagined screams of his teammate dying, trapped as he burned to ash.

Every time Michael closes his eyes, he mourns for the friend he lost.

Every operative knows that any mission could be their last. The way they live their lives isn't conducive to making connections, with people on the outside or with each other. Teams are rare in the CIA; an agency made up of lone wolves. But the ODS is a special pack, a family unit.

Michael didn't know what absolute trust was until the day he was injured in a war zone, surrounded by three guys protecting him from further damage as they made their way to safety. He had never experienced that kind of loyalty and protection in the few years he had been with the agency.

Michael opens his eyes and is greeted by the sight of an empty desk. Carson's desk.

There are still stacks of reports haphazardly strewn across it, the bin they were meant for empty. A map is laid in the center, held down by an agency manual and a chipped mug. The lone lamp on the corner is dark. There are no personal items or pictures.

Michael looks away, unable to process the empty space where his teammate should be. There's no one else in their small office; Billy is wandering the halls on the pretense of looking for intel for another mission and Casey is predictably wearing himself out past point of exhaustion at the gym.

Michael, for the first time in his life, doesn't know what to do. His family is fractured. There's a piece missing, and he has no clue how to put it back together. How to put _them_ back together, how to make them whole again.

He lets out a tired sigh, giving up on any appearance that he was actually getting work done. Michael shuts off the lamp on his desk, gets up and, out of sheer habit, turns to the desk next to him. He feels the sharp pain of loss for the hundredth time that day, as he realizes that he was about to ask Carson to get a drink with him.

Michael makes his way to the exit, but the sight of a tall agent with dark, spiky hair stops him.

Billy is standing in front of a wall covered in stars, staring at the newest plaque with a lost expression. Michael wants to say something, anything, to the rookie, but no words come. Instead he watches as their youngest operative, already burdened by the loss of his country, leans his forehead against Carson's star and whispers a goodbye.

3\. Faye

When Michael first met Faye, it was a year into his time with the agency. He was still doing solo missions and she was just hired as the new assistant to the agent in charge of covert ops in Europe. As soon as he laid eyes on her, Michael knew she was the one.

Years passed as they flirted back and forth; she never crossed the professional boundary and he respected the line, but there was always that spark of chemistry. She moved up in the ranks and he joined the ODS. They decided to start seeing each other after five years of innuendos and longing glances because, agency policy be damned, they were in love.

The jump to marriage happened faster than either of them was really ready for, but Michael could have cared less. Faye was everything he had ever wanted in a woman and the agency had made an exception for them because he was in the field and she wasn't and Faye was rarely directly involved in any of the ODS missions.

At first, they couldn't have been happier. But soon, reality started to set in.

The first time Michael came back injured from a mission, Faye told him that she hadn't been worried, that this was the job and it wasn't like it hadn't happened before. But he could tell from the slight tremor in her voice and the way she gripped is hand that she had been scared.

In the following months, Michael could feel the growing distance between them. Every injury, every long mission, every loss of contact, all the secrets. Their marriage was being slowly corrupted by white lies and false promises.

And then Carson died.

And the world fell out from under Michael's feet.

Faye tried to be there for him. She tried everything. But Michael could feel that separation between them stretch into a chasm of grief that neither of them could cross. Every discussion turned into an argument, and pretty soon Michael buried himself in his work and his team just to avoid facing Faye's hurt and resentment.

Then one night he came home. He met Faye in the kitchen. She strode towards him with tears in her eyes, handed him the divorce papers.

And left.

4\. Casey

Time stood still for Michael as he watched the paramedics get ready to deliver another shock.

"He's still in V-Fib. Charge 200! Clear!"

Casey's limp body arched an inch off the gurney in the back of the bouncing ambulance, muscles contracting from the flow of electricity.

Two minutes. No pulse.

For two agonizing minutes, Casey Malick had been legally dead under Michael's shaking hands as he performed CPR. For one hundred and twenty seconds- for what seemed like an eternity- he had lost Casey.

He had lost a teammate to a gunshot wound in the upper chest on a sidewalk outside a bar on American soil.

The irony was not lost on Michael. Out of all the things that could have happened, this was the least expected.

The four of them had gone out for a round of drinks to celebrate the successful conclusion of their latest mission, from which all of them had come away nothing more than bruises. After a couple of hours, both Martinez and Collins had decided to call it a night and headed out. Michael and Casey had lingered at the bar; not really talking much but enjoying one other's company. After about another half hour they agreed it was probably time to go and exited together.

They had only made it a few feet from the door when a gunshot split the air, eliciting panic from the crowd both inside and outside the bar. Michael had reacted on instinct, dropping low behind the nearest car, instantly scanning for the threat.

His eyes landed on an alley across the street where Michael had noted two men arguing before the chaos started. One man had a gun trained on the other, his eyes wide with surprise. Obviously, he hadn't actually meant to pull the trigger, just to use the weapon as a show of force.

But there was a problem. The other man showed no sign of injury. Which meant the bullet had missed him and headed straight for the bar. Michael had spun around, searching for Casey, only to find him sprawled across the pavement, eyes closed with a bloodstain quickly spreading on his chest.

From the moment he saw his teammate on the ground until he felt the paramedics pull him away, Michael's life had only been about one thing: keeping Casey Malick alive.

It was a task that he had failed when Casey's heart had stopped beating. A task that he had succeeded at after two minutes of pounding and breathing for the other man when he couldn't do it himself.

Now, sitting in the hospital waiting room after the doctors had taken Casey to surgery, Michael couldn't help but think again of the irony of losing his friend to a stray bullet on a street corner after they had just come home from a dangerous mission relatively unscathed.

"Michael!"

His head jerked up in reaction to the sudden voice in the white noise of the waiting room. Billy was striding towards him, and Martinez was only a few steps behind.

Michael forced his tired body out of the chair to get up and deliver the latest news to his team. "Hey, guys. The doc says he's going to pull through the surgery just fine. It was touch and go while the repaired the artery but they think they've got it handled now."

He watched as the fear and panic slowly leached out of both their faces and both of them gave sighs of relief.

"That's great news," Billy enthused, slapping a hand on Michael's shoulder. "Did they say when they think he'll be out?"

Michael ran a hand through his mussed hair with a weary expression. "A little less than an hour, I think." With his hand now over his eyes, the team leader missed the look that passed between his friends.

Rick let out a soft sigh and said, "I'll go get us some coffee. Or at least what passes for it in this place." He gave Michael what was most likely supposed to be a smile, but came out more like a grimace, and walked back the way he came towards the cafeteria.

There was a sudden silence, not particularly uncomfortable, but Michael could tell Billy was waiting for something. After a few moments, the Scot gave in.

"So, are you going to tell me what's really bothering you, or are we going to have to do this the hard way?"

Michael looked over at him then glanced meaningfully towards the doors their youngest member had just left through. "You did that on purpose."

"Martinez has been on this team long enough to know how we operate," Billy rejoined, but he didn't deny the observation.

"Oh? And how's that?"

Billy just lifted an eyebrow.

Michael huffed a laugh and looked away. "Yeah." There was a beat of silence, and then Michael turned back to Billy and whispered in a hollow voice, "I lost him."

Billy's brows furrowed in confusion. "Lost…who?"

"Casey died, Billy," Michael stated a little more strongly, ignoring the way Billy's face drained of all color. "He was dead for a full two minutes. Gone." A small strangled laugh erupted from him that was anything but humorous. "Killed state-side by a stray bullet outside a bar, of all things."

Billy grabbed Michael's shoulders and gave him a small shake, forcing Michael to look him in the eye. "Casey's not dead, Michael. He is very much alive and fighting to stay that way." Billy's mouth turned up on one side in a sort of half-smile, half-grimace. "That man is too much of a grumpy old curmudgeon to give up on us yet, so don't you go and give up on him."

Michael stared at Billy blankly for a few seconds as his teammate's words slowly sank in, and then a small smirk flitted across his face. "I can't wait to see Casey's face when he hears what you just called him."

Billy just shrugged. "I've withstood much worse than name calling from the likes of Casey Malick. I'm just happy he'll be with us to give it."

Michael began to feel the some of the tension and emotion he had been carrying around with him since the shooting drain away. He knew he could count on Casey to keeping fighting, just as he knew he could count on Billy and Rick to stand with him. "Yeah, me too."

4\. One Time He Didn't

Michael was running towards the rendezvous just outside the perimeter of the compound, with Casey pounding the dirt beside him, when it happened.

The main building exploded with a powerful concussive force, the flames reaching up towards the night sky in a rush of heat. Debris rained down in a hundred foot radius, random pieces of flaming material floated through the air almost gracefully.

Michael could only look on in horror as Casey hauled him to his feet.

Rick and Billy were in that building.

Michael couldn't comprehend it; he didn't want to understand.

In that moment, the world was burning and two of his men, his _friends_ , were gone.

Nothing could've survived.

It was as if someone had flipped a switch and everything was moving in slow motion. The noise around him became muted and dull. The sound of his own rapid heartbeat filled his ears. Nothing seemed to matter anymore; not the mission or the escape, not even getting himself and his remaining teammate to safety. Grief and disbelief like he hadn't felt since Carson's supposed death welled up in his chest and paralyzed him.

Rick's face flashed before his eyes, features the same as they had been not fifteen minutes before, when Michael and Casey had split from the others to get the documents and head to the rendezvous point. The kid's face had been set with determination and only the slightest trace of fear; not for himself, but for the others on his team, while he and Billy held their positions to provide a line of defense.

It had been, not for the first time, a moment where Michael had paused for a split second to both appreciate Rick's bravery and loyalty and curse himself for ever letting the younger man stay. The kid was, in many ways, their heart. It was something the team had lost after Simms' death and gained back with their new addition. Rick made them question why they did what they did, day in and day out.

Billy, on the other hand, had flashed Michael a small grin with contradictory seriousness in his eyes and assured the team leader that he and Rick would be right behind them. Despite Billy's carefree attitude, the Scot knew when the situation called for decisive action and Michael knew he could count on Billy to get the job done. He was more than just the charmer; Billy was the soul of the team. He brought with him his own brand of life wherever he went.

And now that was all Michael had left: memories of Rick's fortitude and Billy's vitality.

Something gripped Michael's arm and that one touch brought everything back into focus. Time resumed its normal pace and he became aware of Casey beside him, the other man's hand clenching his arm.

That's when their eyes met.

Michael wasn't sure what he expected, but Casey's face was completely blank. There was no rage or sorrow or any other emotion in his features. Only emptiness.

When he spoke, his voice was hollow, and it sent a shiver down Michael's spine. "We need to move. We can't do anything for them, Michael, and it's not safe here."

Part of Michael instantly rejected that statement, desperately clinging to a shred of hope that Rick and Billy could still be alive. Outwardly, though, he just nodded and, taking one last look at the flaming building, prepared himself to leave.

That's when he saw it.

Something moved in the haze of smoke. At first it was only a shadow, but it quickly formed into a dark mass that resolved into two figures moving together.

Michael didn't dare believe his eyes.

Billy and Rick were coming towards them, illuminated by the fire behind them. The Scot's arm was wrapped around the shorter man's shoulders while Rick supported half his weight.

While Michael's brain struggled to comprehend the meaning of what he was seeing, the more logical part of him automatically began to assess them as they got closer.

Martinez looked outwardly intact, but there were numerous rips and tears in his clothing, some of which were glistening suspiciously in the darkness, and blood was running down the side of his face from a deep cut on his forehead. Beside him, Billy was limping, keeping the weight off his right leg, and there were dark bruises down one side of his face. They both looked shaken up, but alive.

 _They were alive._

Michael felt tears prick his eyes as he grasped the concept. He heard Casey let out a sigh of relief behind him as the older operative came to the same conclusion, and both of them ran to meet their teammates halfway.

There was a pause, right before they came together, as if neither side could actually believe that this was real. In those few seconds, Michael could read the fear of loss in all the faces of his team and he knew they could read it in his.

But all he could say was, "What took you guys so long?"

Then they were back together, as if they had never been separated.

Billy grimaced as he gave Michael a wry look. "I don't know if you noticed, but we were entangled in a wee bit of an explosion." He waved Casey over with his free hand.

Casey took Billy's weight from Rick, and now that Michael was up close, he could see that Rick looked slightly out of it.

"Are you okay, Martinez?" he asked, concerned as Rick started to list to the side. Michael caught his arm before he could fall over.

Brown eyes looked up at him, slightly out of focus. "Not unless you suddenly acquired a twin."

Michael's eyes slid over to Billy. "What happened? We thought…" He couldn't continue; he didn't even want to think about it, but with one look, Michael knew Billy understood.

"There was a gas leak, damage from the gunfire, no doubt. We were out of the building as soon as we realized the danger and we made it pretty far before everything went up in flames." Billy's face darkened a little as he looked over at Rick, who was now sagging against Michael. "Though, evidently, not far enough. He's got a definite concussion, lacerations, and possible internal injuries."

"Well, Billy's got a possible fractured ankle and cracked ribs. His whole side is black and blue," Rick reported in a retaliatory tone.

"Now that we've established that both of you need a hospital, I suggest we get a move on instead of waiting here for one of you to pass out while you tattle on each other like children," Casey spoke up, and Michael was relieved to hear the gruff concern instead of the hollowness from before.

Michael quickly agreed, his tone stopping any retort that Billy or Rick had been about to make. He wasn't about to lose either of them to injuries, not when he had just gotten them back.

Taking Rick's arm across his shoulders, Michael couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment despite their current situation.

He had lost too many people in his life, and he had just come very close to losing two more. But he hadn't and he was going to fight with all that he had to keep it that way. His team had a rough couple of weeks ahead of them, but at the end of it they would all be going home, together.

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 _I hope that wasn't too depressing; I tried for a happy ending. Thanks for reading!_


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